


Five Thousand

by helvel



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27482911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvel/pseuds/helvel
Summary: John Marston, bounty hunter, tracks down the criminal outlaw Arthur Morgan and sets to cash in on the five thousand dollar bounty on Morgan’s head.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 24
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

For a gang that caused enough trouble to have _the Blackwater Massacre_ printed on the front page of every newspaper in the country, the Van der Lindes sure had vanished into thin air. None of the members had been seen since the heist, not a trace of them anywhere. Until now. In his shadowed spot at the edge of the bar, John glanced up from the folded bounty poster to the man on the other side of the saloon. ****

_Arthur Morgan is considered EXTREMELY DANGEROUS and should only be approached by the most experienced bounty hunters. The following details of Morgan’s appearance have been confirmed by credible sources: He stands six feet two inches, broad of shoulder and chest. Hair is blond to brown, eyes are blue. He has two small scars on his chin and is known to wear a roped leather hat._

The man’s hat (roped, leather) was tipped low to hide his face, but there was no doubt about it - that was Arthur Morgan, alright.

Morgan lifted a whiskey glass to his lips. John mirrored the action as he considered what to do. He couldn’t rope Morgan in the middle of the saloon, not when other bounty hunters could be looking to take his score. There had to be another way. Morgan was bound to leave eventually - to sleep, or take a piss, or move on to the next swath of trouble he intended to cause. When he did, John would follow him.

He’d wait, and catch Morgan completely unawares.

... John wasn’t good at waiting.

Especially not when Morgan’s eyes caught his across the saloon.

_Shit._ John looked away, like he was studying the mounted moose antlers on the wall. He counted a full minute before returning to Morgan.

Morgan still watched him. With his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, Morgan’s lips curled up into a smile that set an all too familiar heat curling in John’s belly.

Abandoning his original plan, John got to his feet. Why wait for Morgan to leave, when a much better option presented itself? John swaggered across the saloon, stopping to cock a hip against the edge of Morgan’s table.

“I got a room around back,” John said, “if you want to follow me there.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, all self-assured ease as his eyes trailed down John’s body. “Not one for subtlety, are you?”

John shrugged. “Not really.”

“I prefer to get acquainted with a man before I follow him anywhere.”

His gaze moved to John’s mouth, lingering there. John smiled. He held out a hand. “Name’s Jim Milton.”

“Nice to meet you, Jim. I’m Arthur Morgan.” Morgan’s rough palm wrapped around John’s as he got to his feet. Chest to chest, his eyes burned hot enough to brand. “Well, Jim, now that we’re acquainted...”

“Follow me.”

John led the way to the back of the saloon. No one paid them any mind. Just two men, going somewhere quieter to enjoy each other’s company - and once it had been enjoyed, once Morgan was naked, sated, and thoroughly fucked beside him in the bed, John would have the perfect opportunity to bag him. 

The room key slipped to the floor as Morgan’s thick arms bracketed John against the wall.

“Come on, Jim,” Morgan said, breath hot against John’s neck, “You nervous about something?”

Morgan’s scent filled John’s senses, made his head spin, sweat and masculine power nearly enough to overwhelm him. _Goddamn,_ John needed this. After all the bullshit of the past few weeks, a tumble between the sheets was just the thing to clear his head.

And the money - the _five thousand dollars_ he’d get for handing Morgan over to the government - that wouldn’t be too bad, neither.

Finally the lock clicked open and they stumbled in. John kicked the door closed to press Morgan up against it and crush their mouths together.

“Maybe you ain’t nervous after all,” Morgan said, the words half lost with John’s attempt to devour his mouth. John ignored the painful twinge it caused in the scratch over his lip. He fumbled between them, unfastening both their belts to let them drop to the floor.

“ _Shit,_ ” John panted as he cupped a hand against the front of Morgan’s jeans, “ that’s really somethin’…”

Morgan grasped John’s ass to pull him closer. “Think you can take it?”

“ _Yes,_ ” John said, “Yes, yes please-“

“That’s what I thought. Get on the bed.”

John staggered towards the bed with a shove, bouncing onto the mattress with his arms beneath himself. Morgan’s body blanketed him a second later. John pressed backeven as Morgan pinned him down with an arm behind his back.

“Damn, John, you really are an eager thing,” Morgan said with a chuckle.

John half-nodded against the mattress before his eyes shot open. “Uh, it’s Jim,” he said.

Morgan pulled back the other arm. Rope tightened around John’s wrists.

“I don’t think it is,” Morgan said, “it’s John. John Marston. That’s you, ain’t it?”

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, John wrenched around. Morgan unfolded a piece of paper and held it up.

“Somethin’ chewed up your face real good, but looks like I got the right feller.” He turned around the bounty poster for John to see.

_WANTED in the state of New Austin: A bounty of $500 is offered for the capture and return of the criminal JOHN MARSTON. Marston is tall and lean with dark hair and eyes. He is also known to go by the alias JIM MILTON._

“ _Fuck you,_ ” John snarled, “you goddamn bastard, untie me before I-“

Morgan shoved a bandana into John’s mouth to gag him. John thrashed at him, sending the bedside table crashing to the ground. Another kick hit its mark with a grunt of pain from Morgan. John rolled to his side, getting his legs halfway beneath himself before Morgan’s palm cracked across his cheek.

While stars danced in John’s vision, Morgan opened the window and peered into the night. Judging it clear, he dropped John’s gunbelt outside. John groaned in protest as Morgan scooped him up next, powerful arms lifting him easily out the window to drop him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Sorry about that,” Morgan said, with no apology in his voice, “just don’t want to draw any attention by carrying you out the back door.” He eased himself out, heaving John over his shoulder and making his way to the hitching post.

Old Boy nickered at them as they got close. “Looks like this one’s yours,” Morgan said, shoving John up into the saddle. John willed the horse to bite Morgan, but Old Boy was amicable as ever as Morgan looped a rope over his reins, even letting Morgan pat his nose affectionately. Morgan tied Old Boy to his own horse, a beautiful Turkoman, and mounted up.

Without so much as a backwards glance, they rode off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at chapter 2! Expect short chapters for this fic - I’m trying to teach myself to write faster without spending so long editing or over-planning.

“Comfortable?” Morgan asked. “Aw, what am I saying - I don’t care.”

John glared at him. There wasn’t much more he could do, with his ass in the dirt and bound arms looped over a broken tree. The horses were hitched near the river, Old Boy slurping up water as happily as ever with Morgan’s horse at his side. Morgan had unsaddled both of them and seemed to take great pleasure in helping himself to the contents of John’s saddlebags.

“I got to say, John- Jim-whatever you go by. You’re a real fool, but you got good taste in whiskey.” Morgan uncorked the bottle and took a long pull. “Want some?” He nudged at John’s foot. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Cat got your tongue?”

John kicked back at him, the heel of his boot hitting nothing but dirt while Morgan laughed. _Fuck you_ , John tried to say, no more than muffled sounds through the gag.

Still grinning to himself, Morgan set aside the bottle and poked at the sizzling pan of sausage and beans over the fire. The smell of food made John’s stomach growl. They’d ridden through the night, stopping for a rest in the dawn light. After lighting up one of John’s cigarettes with John’s lighter, Morgan returned to riffling through John’s saddlebags.

“What do we have here?”

Morgan pulled out a slim black book. He flicked through the pages, face lighting up at the tally he found there.

“Roy Fischer, one hundred dollars collected. Pete Bascom, seventy-five dollars collected. You’ve been busy turning in bounties. Say, Johnny. How many of these fellers did you invite back to your room for a fuck before handing them over to the law?”

That bastard really thought he was funny. John managed a muffled growl in response, and Morgan got to his feet.

“I suppose I can take that gag out now. No one around here to hear you scream.”

He untied the drool-soaked bandana from John’s mouth. Broiling hatred told John to spit in his smug face, but hours of being gagged had left his jaw too stiff to manage it.

“Untie me,” he croaked.

“Going to have to try harder than that.”

“Untie me, you bastard.”

Morgan chuckled as he returned to the black book. “That’s better. Now I got a question for you. This tally looks like you’re collecting well on bounties, but you barely got a penny on you. Where’d all the money go?”

“None of your business.”

“You hiding it somewhere, or pissed it all away?” Morgan’s head tilted to the side as he studied John’s face. “Or, maybe you been out of work while you heal up? Whatever chewed you up really done a piece on you. Almost makes me feel sorry for you.”

John grit his teeth. “Ain’t interested in your sympathy.”

The fire crackled and Morgan turned over the sausage again. He sliced off a piece, then pierced it with his knife to offer to John.

“C’mon, Johnny. Talk and I’ll share my food with you.”

“That’s _my_ food,” John said, grunting as Morgan stuck the sausage in his open mouth. Again John wanted to spit in his face, but the burst of salty meat was too good to waste. Morgan looked entirely too pleased with himself about it. He sliced off another piece of sausage and offered it up.

John stared at it. Goddamn Morgan, acting like he was doing John a favour by offering him his own food. John would make him pay for that… but it smelled so good, and John hadn’t eaten since the lunch special at the saloon yesterday…

He snapped at the sausage, expecting Morgan to pull it out of his reach at the last second. Morgan didn’t. That maddening grin was back.

“See, I can be nice,” Morgan said, “the other people looking for you and your five hundred dollar bounty might not be so generous.”

“And what about the people looking for _you?_ ” John said. “My five hundred is pocket change to your five thousand.”

The spoon scraped against the pan where Morgan was attempting to scoop up some beans. He turned to face John, the slightest crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“… Five thousand?” Morgan said.

John’s lip curled up with a sneer. “That a surprise to you? Got your bounty poster in my pocket right here, if you want to see for yourself.”

Morgan got to his feet. He opened the pocket John nodded to. _Closer…_ As his fingers closed around the paper inside, John reared back and spat in his face.

Morgan’s palm cracked across his cheek hard enough to jerk John’s head sideways.

“Careful, boy,” Morgan warned. “Your bounty don’t say you need to be alive to collect.”

_Christ,_ that bastard hit hard. John’s vision swam while his half-healed scratches burned like fire. It was worth it for that half second of Morgan’s smug face wrinkled with disgust. What fun John was going to have when Morgan was the one trussed up like an animal, bound and helpless and treated to the same indignities as John…

Morgan’s eyes were fixed on the bounty paper. He shook his head.

“Five thousand dollars…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, _five thousand dollars._ ”

A bounty on his head couldn’t have been a surprise, not for a criminal like Morgan, but that price was a shock. The government badly wanted him and the other Van der Lindes after the Blackwater Massacre. A shred of hope swelled in John’s chest. Morgan couldn’t get to New Austin to collect on John’s bounty without passing right by the scene of the crime.

“I was by Blackwater a few weeks back,” John told Morgan, “the whole area is crawling with law and government agents.” He strained in his bonds, raising his chin to meet Morgan’s eye. “That kind of risk ain’t worth the five hundred for me. Let me go here and I won’t cause any trouble for you.”

Morgan shook his head. He dumped the last of the sausage and beans in the fire. “You just let me worry about that, Johnny,” he said over his shoulder on his way to the water to wash out the pan.

“What the Hell do you need five hundred dollars for, anyway?” John shouted after him. “Papers say you made off with a hundred thousand from Blackwater!”

Morgan didn’t hear him - or more likely, Morgan ignored him. John huffed and slumped back against the tree. Another day of travel and they’d pass into lower West Elizabeth. Morgan was a fool if he thought he could avoid trouble there. Five thousand dollars put a Hell of a target on his back, and John had to do something soon if he wanted to collect on that money for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

“Get some sleep, Johnny. We got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”

Once John got his bound wrists free, he was going to punch Morgan right in his smug face.

He strained his arms this way and that, clenched his hands in and out of fists. All he’d managed so far was to rub his wrists raw. John cursed to himself. Maybe if he could get to his feet…

Gravel scraped beneath his boots as John worked his legs beneath himself. He tried to push himself upright. Each time, broken branches and tree bark snagged at his shirt and sent him back down to his ass.

A branch snapped nearby. It was all the motivation John needed to spring to his feet like a jackrabbit. Low voices carried in the air, and firelight caught the shape of two figures in the darkness.

Strangers in the woods rarely meant well and John knew trouble well enough when he spotted it, but he had few options left.

“ _Hey,_ ” he whispered to them, “hey, you got to help me out. This lunatic kidnapped me! He’s got me tied to this tree, I don’t know what he might do.”

They drew closer, stepping into the light. Both men had guns at their belts and bandoliers across their chests.

“That sounds like a damned shame, amigo,” one of the men said.

John’s stomach dropped. This was just his luck - abducted by the bounty he was supposed to turn in, helplessly tied to a tree, and who should turn up but the Del Lobos.

Scanning the small camp, One of the Lobos bent to inspect the food stash by the fireside. “This lunatic,” the man said, “does he have any money?” His name was Joaquín, if John recalled correctly, and he’d been with them at Solomon's Folly. John ducked his head away from the firelight. There was no chance of rescue by these two. John just had to hope they didn’t recognize him.

“Just take whatever you want, quick. I’m telling you, you got to get out of here before that mean son of a bitch gets you too.”

Joaquín glanced up from the saddlebags he was rifling through. John tucked his face further into his shoulder. He heard the two men speak in Spanish, with _Marston_ among the words.

_Shit._

His heart thundered in his chest as Joaquín drew closer. He caught John’s chin, thumb digging into the cut there as he forced John to look at him. A mean grin spread across Joaquín’s face.

“Look who it is,” he said, “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

“You should have done a better job trying to kill me, then.”

Joaquín bared his teeth. He dug harder into the cut, and John winced at the fresh trickle of blood down his chin. “I’ll just have to try again.”

The other Lobo peered over Joaquín’s shoulder. “Let me have a go at him, Joaquín. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“What’s going on out here?”

Morgan sleep-heavy face peered out of the tent. His eyes scanned between the Lobos. Somehow he managed to look intimidating half out of a tent in his unders.

“You’ve got something of ours,” Joaquín told him, “we’re taking Marston off your hands.”

Morgan shrugged. “Sure. He’s all yours - but it will cost you. Five hundred dollars.” Morgan’s voice held all that self-assured ease that John had fallen when they’d met in the saloon. “At least that’s what they’re offering for him in New Austin. And I ain’t parting with him for less.”

Joaquín laughed. “Sure, vaquero, I got the money right here.” His hand went to his holster.

Morgan moved so fast he was a blur. John barely had time to curse and duck as best he could, before the gunshots were fading and both Lobos lay collapsed in the campsite, guns still in their hands while red-black blood pooled beneath them.

Morgan looked at the two bodies and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“You sure get yourself in a lot of trouble for a feller what’s tied up,.”

John’s hands trembled behind his back. That had been too close. He stared at Joaquín’s dark, dead eyes, fixed on the night sky, before Morgan hefted the body onto his shoulder to dump into the river.

“This ain’t what I wanted to be doing in the middle of the night,” Morgan grumbled when he returned from dumping the second Lobo as well. He fixed John with a look. “Now don’t cause no more fuss, you hear?”

He ducked to enter the tent. John’s heart leapt to his throat.

“ _Morgan!_ ” he shouted. Morgan glanced back at him. “… Untie me.”

“Told you you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“You can’t leave me out here. There might be more of them around.”

Morgan straightened, lips curling up in amusement. “You got yourself in some trouble with those Lobos, huh?”

“None of your business.”

Morgan took a few steps closer. John flinched away as he raised his hand, but it was only to wipe away the trickle of blood from John’s chin.

“What’s the matter, Johnny? Scared to be alone out here?”

John jerked away from his touch, scowling. “… You would be too, if you were helpless like this.”

“Alright, as you wish.”

“What are you-“

He lifted John so his arms passed over the broken top of the tree, then shoved him towards the tent. John stumbled on weak legs, tripping over himself and crashing down halfway through the tent flap.

Morgan heaved him the rest of the way in to drop him on top of the bedroll. He ducked in and laid beside him, slinging a thick arm over John’s back.

“Now don’t you struggle none,” Morgan said, stifling a yawn against John’s neck, “I’ll wake up if I feel you trying to get away. “

John’s mind spun. Morgan’s broad body pressed against him, and his masculine scent filled John’s nostrils, rich and warm. After all this bullshit, why the Hell did John still want him?

John squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t let his mind run wild. This was his chance to break free and bag a sleepy, unaware Morgan for himself - he just needed to _think._

Morgan’s gunbelt was laid out beside them. If he could just get his arms over there, maybe he could get hold of the knife...

A branch snapped outside, making him jump.

Morgan’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “Just the wind.”

“There might be more of them.”

“There ain’t. Now quit rubbing that skinny ass against me or I might just have to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” John asked, breath hitching.

Morgan huffed out a soft laugh as he nestled his nose into John’s hair. “You’re a real fool, Johnny. Maybe in the morning. Go to sleep now.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Morgan.”

“… hm…”

_“Morgan._ Wake up.”

“Christ, watch those boney elbows.”

“I got a deal for you.”

“A deal. Right. Suppose it starts with me letting you go? … Thought so. Nah, I ain’t interested. Go back to sleep.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Say it then.”

“Let me go. I’ll stop chasing you, you stop chasing me. Go our separate ways and forget all about this.”

“Seems like you ain’t in a place to be making deals like that.”

“You won’t collect on my bounty. You seen what those Lobos wanted. Soon as they catch wind of me in New Austin, there won’t be enough pieces of me left to hand in to the sheriff’s office.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“I’m serious. Best we just end things here.”

“I dealt with plenty of those Lobos around Blackwater. They ain’t more than a nuisance. What’s got you so wound up about them, anyway?”

“You don’t know them like I do.”

“Sounds like you had a bad run-in.”

“You could say that.”

“C’mon, what you trying to be so mysterious for?”

“There was… a job. Train robbery I joined up with them for. Things went wrong. I got the blame. They got to me before the law did.”

“So you double-crossed them.”

“It weren’t like that!”

“You’re a real fool. If you’re trying to cut a deal with me, maybe you shouldn’t be talking about double-crossing the last fellers you had a deal with.”

“Christ, forget it.”

“Sounds like you got what you deserved.”

“Fuck off.”

“Was those Lobos the ones who carved up your pretty face too?”

“ _Fuck off_.”

“Oh, shit. I weren’t serious. Sorry, Johnny. They left you in a real bad state. Why the Hell would you join up with fellers like that anyway?”

“Same reason I’m turning you in to collect on that five thousand.”

“Aw, there’s that attitude that makes you so charming.”

“Think you’re funny, don’t you.”

“I just like you when you’re all riled up- _ow,_ those elbows!”

“Just shut your Goddamned mouth, or do what you said you would.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, what you mean?”

“Just…”

“Ah. _That.”_

“Do it or stop saying you will. I’m sick of your teasing.”

“You think a tumble together is going to, what, leave me relaxed enough to get the jump on me? I ain’t forgotten what you tried back in the saloon.”

“What am I going to do when you got me tied up like this?”

“I can tell you’re a crafty son-of-a-bitch. A real fool, but you got an idea or two under that greasy mop.”

“That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Not really.”

“I’m getting real tired of your stupid games.”

“I’ll take your mind off it, then.”

“I mean it, Morgan. Don’t you Goddamn tease me- _ah!”_

“Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“M-Morgan…”

“Heh, bigger than I expected. Want me to stop?”

“Don’t even think about it. _Shit-_ ”

“Aw, you go on and be as loud as you want, Johnny. Ain’t no one around here to hear us.”


End file.
